A Hero in Time
by NordicGnome
Summary: The events of "Destiny" have left Leonard caught in the time stream, only to appear when he is most neeed.
1. Chapter 1

The first time he came back to the world, it felt like he was swimming upward through a deep pool of water to reach the surface's vivid light. The pull of the waves provided a bit of resistance, but a little effort combined with the natural buoyancy of his body propelled him toward the growing brightness.

It hadn't been completely dark, wherever he'd been. That had surprised him. When he'd gotten there, he had remembered the feeling of adrenaline coursing through his body as he knocked Mick out to take his place at the Oculus device. There was the feeling of immense relief when Sara had – astoundingly – listened to him and gotten herself and Mick to safety. Then he had felt a small but unaccustomed sense of pride that he had saved Mick – and possibly the world.

And there had been a great deal of satisfaction, when Sara had freely given him a kiss that he didn't have to steal.

He had met the Time Bastard's eyes, quoted Pinocchio, and when the Oculus device blew, he had felt peace.

No, it wasn't completely dark. He felt like his eyes were closed, yet he could still see light beyond them. He felt like he was floating, but with no concept of for how long.

He was floating and then there was all at once a _tug_ and then he swam upwards and opened his eyes to the daylight.

And found himself staring at a grave.

Leonard's eyes widened in horror. He looked down at the dirt that had been freshly turned over and mounded up in front of a gleaming marble marker. Good God, he had died hadn't he? And this was to be his eternal punishment, his penance for a life of crime and villainy. He was a ghost, a spirit, condemned to walk the earth in non-corporeal form for all of time.

With reluctance, his forced his gaze up to read the words on his gravestone, and read, 'Betty.' _Betty._ Betty somebody, who had left this realm at the ripe old age of 86. A breath shuddered out of Leonard with relief.

A breath. He was breathing. And he could feel. His legs, in fact, felt a bit unsteady just then.

So where was he? _When_ was he?

He took another look at Betty Somebody's headstone. The date of her death read 2016 and the grave was obviously fresh. So, he was back in what he still thought of as the present, despite his months of travelling with the team on the Waverider.

Just to confirm, he took a better look around at his surroundings. He was in a cemetery. There were some cars visible, parked on a roadway beyond the line of graves, which looked appropriate to his former current-day, or whatever the hell he was supposed to call _his_ time. A man and a woman stood at a graveside a few rows away. Their clothes looked about right for the time period. Up in the sky there was…

Leonard's gaze snapped back to the people at the grave.

The woman was Sara.

She stood with her head bowed, occasionally wiping at tears that were sliding down her cheeks. Leonard recognized the older man who stood beside her as her father, Quentin Lance, whom Leonard had met once when Quentin was younger, though the older man wouldn't remember.

Whose grave was she crying over? Could it be…his? His heart was hammering in his chest, which seemed to indicate otherwise, but maybe that was part of eternal damnation, to be always thinking you were alive, when in fact you weren't.

There was one way to find out. Leonard started closing the distance between them with quick strides.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as he moved toward her, getting closer and closer until he was almost near enough to reach out and touch her. Sara, who had kissed him of her own free will, kissed him with a restrained but noticeable passion when she had kissed him goodbye. Now he was here, with her.

He would spend his life seeking redemption if fate granted him that life to live. If he wasn't just a ghost.

"Sara," he said, and she raised her eyes to look up at him.

A gasp escaped her lips. "Leonard?" The look of utter shock and confusion on her face told him that seeing him again was the last thing she had ever expected.

But she did see him. Hear him.

He reached out his hand. Her hand came forward.

She touched him. He felt her fingers brush against his before he crumpled to the ground.

This time everything went black.

"Leonard!" Sara cried out his name and dropped to her knees beside his prone form.

Her hands fluttered helplessly over his motionless body before she put them down upon him to touch him. She ran a hand over his face and felt the warmth of his skin and the bristle of his cheek where he needed a shave. She felt the soft rush of air escape his lips as he breathed. Breathed!

"Come back, do you hear me?" she said, a hint of a threat in her tone. "You're not leaving us again!" She laid a hand on his chest to feel the steady rise and fall of his breath.

"Sara, what the hell?" Quentin said. "Do you know who that is? Leonard _Snart_?"

"Of course I know who he is!" Sara snapped at her father.

Quentin knelt down beside her. "He has enough warrants out for his arrest to fill a book. A big book!"

Sara looked at him with defiance and determination in her eyes. "I'm sure it's an interesting read. But Dad, he saved us. He saved us all." Her look softened. "He saved me, in ways you'll never know."

Father and daughter locked gazes and silently matched wills before Quentin shook his head. "Fine, honey." He reached out to feel the pulse at Leonard's neck. "I think he just passed out."

This time when he came to, it was more like waking up. Darkness, nothingness, and then he opened his eyes to Sara's beautiful face looking down at him.

"I'm not dead?"

"You're not dead," Sara said, her worried look evaporating with a tremulous smile.

"Care to prove it?" he said, imbuing his tone with a hint of a challenge.

Sara's grin widened. "You bet."

She kissed him like there was no tomorrow. Made him believe that there would be one.

He gathered her close to him, uncaring that they were lying on the grass, past considering that they had an audience until the loud clearing of a throat sounded from above them.

Sara pulled away and he reluctantly let her go. She sat up, but he kept a hand resting loosely on her while she likewise laid her hand back against his chest. Over his heart. It was as though they were afraid to break contact and lose each other again.

"Can you give us a minute, Dad?"

Quentin scowled down at Leonard but then looked at Sara and his gaze softened. He gave a quick, sharp nod. "Fine. I'll meet you at the car." He turned and left.

Leonard sat up so that his face was on level with Sara's. She reached out to gently run her hand over his cheek.

"We thought you were gone," she said softly. "I thought…"

"I'm here," he said.

Sara shook her head in bewilderment. "How?"

"I don't know. I guess I wasn't ready to miss out on all the fun."

Sara slipped her hand around his neck and pulled him forward for a lingering kiss. He went willingly.

They broke apart again, mindful that Quentin's patience probably wasn't infinite, especially when he'd left his daughter alone with a notorious criminal.

There was something Leonard still needed to know. "Sara. Whose grave is it?"

Her face immediately crumpled into a look of such abject sorrow that Leonard felt a sharp twist to his own heart. He wanted to gather her back into his arms, but first he had to hear her answer.

"My sister," she said quietly. "Laurel."

"Sara, I'm so sorry." This time, he reached his hand out to her, to tenderly wipe away a tear that had escaped her eye and was coursing down her cheek.

"I'm dealing with it," she said. "I tried to go back, to change things, but Rip…" Instead of continuing she just shook her head.

"But you're here now." Sara straightened her shoulders and met his gaze. "I thought you were gone and then I found out I'd lost Laurel and I honestly didn't know how much more I could take. I didn't want to use the anger as my refuge. That's not me anymore."

She took his hand from where it still rested against her face, wrapped her fingers around it and brought it to her lips to kiss his palm.

"You're here now," she said, again. "And that gives me hope for the future."

He reached out to pull her closer but his hand…his arm…they were fading. He was disappearing.

Sara screamed. "Leonard! No. NO!"

The waves took him under.


	2. Chapter 2

The next time he was pulled back into the world, he found himself standing in the midst of crossfire.

He came back to a cacophony of weapons resounding fast and furious and a hail of bullets raining down mere feet from where he stood.

Instinct kicked in and he _dropped_ and rolled behind the relative cover of a nearby wooden crate. He peered out beyond the slight sanctuary his hiding place afforded to try and see just what the hell was going on.

He was in a dimly lit warehouse filled with crates and boxes. The hazy light of day filtered through cracks in the wooden walls and ceiling. The space echoed with the loud staccato eruptions of machine gun fire. To his left a bunch of goons in uniforms that made them look like they belonged sometime in the 20th century were firing a nonstop volley of bullets. From his right came an answering stream of flames.

Mick!

He saw his partner standing alongside Rip, both men firing their weapons and defending themselves from their advisories. From the look of things, his teammates would easily dispatch their opponents in short order. Only...from behind Mick and Rip and beyond their field of vision, Leonard saw another lone gunman approaching them. The gunman raised his weapon, putting Mick and Rip in his sights.

Without hesitation, Leonard sprang into action. He went from a crawl, to a crouch, to a full-on run, flinging himself at the enemy without taking heed of the fact that he had no weapon with which to defend himself.

Except surprise. Fortunately, that was enough.

He crashed into the other man and the two of them went down hard but Leonard had prepared himself to tuck and roll upon impact. The other man dropped his weapon and it bounced a couple of feet along the hard, dirt-packed floor.

Leonard came up onto his knees and dealt his foe two quick and well-placed jabs with his fists, rendering the man unconscious. He grabbed the fallen weapon and whirled around.

To find himself barrel to barrel with Mick's heat gun.

Mick and Rip has dispatched the last of their opponents, and a sudden silence hung heavy in the warehouse. Leonard heard Mick's sharp inhalation.

"Snart! What the f-?"

"Mr. Snart!" Rip came forward, holding out his hand. Leonard got to his feet and moved the gun to his other hand so that he could accept Rip's offer of a handshake.

"Sara told us of her encounter with you and it's wonderful to now see you in the flesh!"

Mick elbowed Rip out of the way and enveloped Leonard in a bear hug so fierce he felt himself lifted off the ground.

"Buddy!" Mick said. "Thanks for the save, man."

Mick moved to put him back down, but his feet wouldn't touch the floor. Leonard looked down, only to be horrified once more as he watched his legs disappear.

Sara paced back and forth across the bridge, trying to vent her frustration in a way more acceptable to her teammates than physically lashing out at something...or somebody. What she wouldn't give just then to be facing down a formidable enemy so that she could expend her feelings of anger and helplessness and heartache in the fight.

Twice now he had come back to them, only to disappear again. Lost, found, gone. Gone again.

In the space of a few weeks, Sara had experienced sorrow and grief, first for Leonard, then for Laurel. Then, joy, when Leonard had come back. When she watched him fade out and away from her she'd been horrified but at the same time she'd clung on to a determined hope, that he was out there somewhere, that they _would_ find him.

Now, her hope warred with a feeling of helplessness. She was used to going out and meeting problems head on, to being able to apply her own wits and skills to find a solution. She was powerless in this situation.

She hadn't even gotten to see him this time.

Sara whirled around to march back across the deck of the bridge. She found Ray's gaze on her, eyeing her with a sympathetic look. It sparked an irrational anger.

"Two geniuses!" she said, her hands fisting at her sides. "Two geniuses, advanced technology, an artificial intelligence, and nobody can figure out a way to bring him back!"

"Sara…" Rip stepped forward and spoke in a conciliatory tone.

She threw up her hands and averted her gaze to avoid his look that was largely sympathetic but also held a small measure of bewilderment. They had all been shaken by the loss of Leonard, by his heroism and his sacrifice for the team. But she suspected they were a little surprised by the depth of her sorrow because they didn't know, didn't understand, what had been evolving between her and him.

 _What the future will hold for me. And you. And me and you._

All at once, the fight went out of Sara, replaced by weariness and a helpless resignation.

"Please help him," she said, eyeing Rip, Ray and Martin in turn. "Please."

She left the bridge for the lonely solitude of her quarters.


End file.
